Closer to Danger, Further from Harm
by GirlInTheBlueHoodie
Summary: "I am not naïve. I know all the things he has done wrong. But neither am I crazy. Unlike the rest of the world, I know all the things he has done right." ScarecrowxOC
1. Closure

**Hey there!**

**So, this is my first Batman-fic attempt, and also my first multi-chapter work, so if it seems a little unsteady on it's feet to begin with, it's because I'm still getting into the swing of it!**

**Thanks to my existing readers for your support, and this is gonna be very different to my first two oneshots, so if you're not so keen that's okay :)**

**And to any new readers- thanks for checking this out, and I hope you like it!**

**Blue xx**

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CHAPTER ONE- CLOSURE

The stark whiteness was what hit me first. Walking into the private section of Arkham Asylum, I was assaulted by the bright neon lights reflecting off the clean white tiles covering every inch of the walls. I stopped momentarily, eyes rapidly adjusting to the sudden glare, and received a sharp nudge in the back.

"If you're insisting on watching this, Miss. Raven," Officer Cash said bluntly, disapproval clear in his tone, "then we need to hurry. This way."

I resumed my brisk pace, both anxious and determined to see this through. Believe me, I had no desire to set eyes on that monster any more than I had to, but I was going to make myself do this. I had to watch it happen, I needed the closure.

"Here we are."

I snapped abruptly out of my thoughts, and peered into the room in front of me.

For a moment I thought I'd been shown the wrong room. I barely recognised the pathetic, trembling man curled up in the corner. He yelled in terror whenever one of the guards approached him, straining to distance himself from them. A doctor approached him with a syringe full of sedative, and his head spun round urgently, eyes wide, looking desperately for an escape. And that's when he saw me.

"Nina!" he cried, flinging himself out of the corner and towards me. The guards lunged forward, barring his way, holding him back as he struggled.

"No," I said quietly, and they looked at me in surprise. "It's okay."

"Miss. Raven, I really don't think-"

"It's fine, Officer Cash. He can't do anything, not in this state," I replied, having to swallow the bitterness creeping into my voice.

Cash nodded at the other guards, who moved back, muttering to themselves unhappily.

Finding himself suddenly without arms barring his way, the man fell to the floor in front of my feet, before clambering unsteadily to his own. He took my shoulders and stared pleadingly into my eyes. I could see it then, the sheer terror he was feeling, and despite myself, I pitied him.

"Nina, oh thank god you're here," he muttered hurriedly. "It's me, Tyler! Nina, baby, please help me. Don't let them get me Nina, please. Oh god, they're coming for me, please Nina, don't let them hurt me, please!"

I flinched away as Tyler's voice rose into hysterics, stumbling slightly. He lunged forwards then, grabbing my arms tight and screaming, the incoherent stream of words echoing horrifically down the asylum corridor.

"Oh crap, someone, quick! Sedate him!" Cash yelled, and one of the doctors sprung forward, managing to sink the syringe into Tyler's arm. She pushed down on the plunger, and Tyler's eyes rolled back into his head. His grip on my arms loosened, and he crumpled to the floor, breathing softly.

Seeing him like that, curled up on the floor, sleeping, I remembered how he used to be. My Tyler, the gorgeous, clever, funny guy who'd turned up at my apartment at 2 am when I needed to talk, who'd held an umbrella for me whenever it rained, and whose arms I'd fallen asleep in more times than I could count. I wanted to pull him towards me, hold him close, stroke his hair, tell him everything would be okay. I wanted to save him from all of this; the guards, the doctors, the awful damn asylum with its painfully white walls and its chemically, bleach-like smell.

"Isn't there any way I could- what?" I cut my question short when I realised Officer Cash was staring at me, or more specifically, at my bare shoulder where Tyler had pulled the sleeve of my jumper down.

I hurriedly pulled the soft material back up, covering the mottled black and purple skin around the half-healed cuts. I looked at the floor then, ashamed, whilst my mind was opened to another set of memories, ones I'd tried so hard to bury.

_The first time we'd argued properly, yelling curses and insults at one another, each trying to break the other's resolve. The moment I pushed him over the edge, the first time he hit me. The sting where his hand had collided with my face, the cool of the wooden floor against my cheek when I fell. The string of blows I'd received week after week after week, staring ashamed at my reflection in the mirror, my whole body a mess of blue and purple blotches. Covering the marks with trousers and long sleeves. Knowing I needed to get out but unable to leave. The fiery pain the first time the kitchen knife sliced the flesh of my arm. The first time of many. Sitting on the bathroom floor, cleaning my latest wounds, tears falling freely, while he rattled at the locked door. Fearing for my life, but having something inexplicable, something stupid holding me back._

The tide of memories released, I could hardly believe that I'd felt pity, that I'd felt _anything_ for that monster. I looked back down at the crumpled heap on the floor, weak, broken, insane. And this time I felt nothing.

They'd told me what'd happened, that he'd been through a terrible encounter with a twisted psychopath. I'd not listened much to the details, catching odd words like 'traumatised' and 'fear toxin'. I had just sat there, waiting for an overwhelming sense of worry or sadness, but instead found myself feeling relieved. My boyfriend had lost his mind after being attacked by one of Arkham's infamous escaped 'super villains' and all I could think was that I was free. No more abuse, no more terrified waiting for the next blow.

When everything came out about the abuse and the alcohol and the drugs, he was put in Arkham. I had forced myself to come along, to see him locked up for good, because I knew it was what I needed. That closure, that knowledge that he could no longer hurt me. And as I followed the guards and doctors transferring the sedated, restrained wreck of a man to his cell, locking the door on him, there was no need for me to hide my smile. I would never have to see that monster again. I was finally free.

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**So, what do you think? Please do review if you have anything to say- it means a lot to me :)**

**And I know, I haven't introduced the lovely Dr Crane himself yet, but all in good time! I thought I'd let you get to know Nina first, and find out a bit about her story x**

**I'm not sure if I'm gonna be able to update this regularly because of school and other things (sorry!), but see you next chapter, maybe? xx**


	2. Message

******Hello there again!**

**Thank you so much for sticking with this, I hope I can continue to do you all proud with this!**

**Anyway, without further ado, I give you Chapter Two! Enjoy!**

**Blue xx**

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CHAPTER TWO- MESSAGE

It seemed strange, looking back, that I'd never really noticed how tense I was - always on edge, always expecting the world to come crashing down - until I was suddenly relaxed. In an instant, I no longer needed to be on constant alert, I could breathe easy.

I smiled to myself as I followed Officer Cash back through the twisting maze of Arkham's corridors. As soon as we had left the private section the harsh, clean whiteness had vanished, replaced by textured metal floors, off-white, cracked wall tiles and bare bulbs that flickered and buzzed.

"Yeh, bit different to the private wing, huh?" Cash commented, noting my attention to the surroundings. "All the money those wealthy types pump into having their family looked after in luxury is put towards making sure that when the relatives visit, they feel it's a good environment to be treated in. This lot, however," he continued, jerking his thumb at the cell doors around us, "no-one cares about them. Or the ones that do can't afford a private suite. So they get stuck down here. Goddamn dreary place to work, I can tell you. But hey, the job's not so bad."

"I actually prefer this bit," I replied, and Cash raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I can't stand all the bright white in the private section. It's too harsh, too fake."

"Huh, each to their own, I guess," Cash muttered, but he smiled a little.

We carried on in silence for a little while, turning this way and that, until we reached a highly secure door, complete with scanners and security codes.

"Okay, I wouldn't normally take you through this way," Cash began, looking a little sheepish. "But we're having a patient transfer along the other route, which is best avoided, trust me on that one. This way involves going past some of our... more _interesting_ guests, but most of them are pretty docile, and even if they weren't, they won't be able to get to you. So essentially, don't worry 'bout it, okay?"

"I'm okay, I can deal with this," I replied, using my nonchalant attitude to hide my curiosity. 'More _interesting_ guests'? What did he mean by that?

My question was soon answered as Cash finished typing in the code, and the doors opened with a hiss and a deep, metallic groan. For a moment I was rooted to the spot, forgetting to walk after Cash, merely staring around me in surprise, and more worryingly, recognition. In a second, several pairs of eyes trained themselves on me, feeling for all the world like crosshairs. Even dressed in identical blue-grey jumpsuits, the inmates were mostly recognisable either by their faces or their cells. I was face to face with some of Arkham's super villains.

The Penguin; a sneering, overweight man with half a broken bottle embedded in his face, gave me a quick glance-over, then promptly returned to grumbling to himself, whilst in the next cell along a handsome, brown-haired man gave me an enigmatic smile, leaning back against a wall covered in green question marks - unmistakably the Riddler.

"Alice?" enquired a third man incredulously, peering through the bars, but turned away when I stepped a little closer, shaking his head and muttering sadly. "Not Alice, no. Pretty, but not _Alice_."

I barely had time to register the Mad Hatter's comment before an innately cheerful voice emerged from the neighbouring cell.

"Well, _hello_ there! What's this Cash? Brought me along a nice little surprise, have you? Well, she's really something, eh?" the voice cackled.

Even in the absence of the makeup, scars, and acid-green hair, the Joker's maniacal laughter was hard not to recognise - everyone had heard it on the news. He leaned casually on the cell bars, winking as his distorted smile grew wider.

"Get back Joker! She's not here for you!" Cash shouted, banging his hooked arm against the bars, causing the insane super villain to jump back, still laughing.

"Well, anytime you change your mind, beautiful," he addressed me, winking again. "You know where to find me."

I smiled in spite of myself, shaking my head slightly, much to the Joker's amusement. Cash, however, was less than pleased. He placed his remaining hand on my shoulder, eyebrows furrowed.

"Don't encourage them, Miss. Raven. Not a good idea. Especially Joker and Crane here," he explained, gesturing to the grinning lunatic and then to the next cell.

"Crane?" I asked. The name seemed familiar, but I couldn't seem to place it. I knew I'd heard it before, and as I drew level with the final cell and saw it's occupant, I remembered exactly where from. Dr. Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow - the one who attacked Tyler.

- Crane -

It was bad enough being imprisoned in such a pathetic, dingy asylum cell when I was completely sane, but to share a wing with these... lunatics! Their incessant babbling and meaningless drivel was enough to drive even the strongest mind to its limits. You get put in an asylum to 'cure' your insanity, and end up just being driven crazy - _hah_! What a ridiculous idea these people have of the mind. They forever search for weak points in these disgusting, so-called super criminals' minds, to no avail, whereas if they would only let me use my fear toxin... Why, these disgraceful excuses for human beings would be broken on the floor within minutes!

"Well, _hello_ there! What's this Cash? Brought me along a nice little surprise, have you? Well, she's really something, eh?" the Joker leered from his cell the other side of the wall. I rolled my eyes - he truly was pathetic, devoting his time to winding up Officer Cash in the absence of any possibility to cause mayhem. But I was intrigued by the mention of this 'she' - what was Cash doing bringing someone through here? It was hardly as though any of us here would ever warrant visitors. Surely not...?

The Joker continued to flirt with the unknown woman, despite Cash's warnings. The officer and his female companion were approaching my cell; I could hear their footsteps drawing closer. Much to my surprise, I found myself craning forward in anticipation of catching a glimpse of our unexpected visitor. But then again, hardly anything worthy of noting ever happened in this miserable place, I suppose it made sense to make the most of any minor occurrences.

Amongst the officer's droning warnings, I caught the name 'Miss. Raven'. It seemed curiously familiar, although I found myself unable to place a finger on the origin of its familiarity. Perhaps a name I had read in the newspapers these guards were considerate enough to provide me with?

My musings were cut short as the woman drew level with my cell, and I was able to get a good look at her.

"Crane?" she was querying, but her eyes seemed to widen when she registered my face, as if she recognised me as I recognised her. For I remembered where I had read her name, and seen her photograph. The girlfriend of my latest victim; the man had been a disgusting, arrogant, drunk individual who I had been told was now a fellow Arkham resident.

"It's _Dr_. Crane, Miss. Raven," I smiled coolly, extending my hand. "I believe I recently had the pleasure of meeting your boyfriend?"

The young woman's eyes grew wider still, and the colour drained from her face. _This could be interesting_, I thought.

- Nina -

When Crane poked his thin, pale hand through the cell bars, I simply stared at him. Was this him, the 'crazed psychopath' that had driven Tyler's mind into oblivion? It was almost impossible to believe from just looking at him - messy brown hair, silver-rimmed glasses balanced on his nose, framing his piercingly ice blue eyes. His expression was calm, almost bemused, not what I'd expected from a man who revelled in inflicting fear and pain on others. Only his words gave any clue that he was indeed responsible for Tyler's state, an edge of twisted amusement in his otherwise cold tone.  
Cash looked about ready to slam Crane's hand back, but before he had a chance, I accepted the handshake, flinching a little at the cold grip. I only realised my mistake when I was suddenly pulled forward until my face was at the cell bars, my nose only inches from Crane's.

"Quite the brave one, aren't you, child?" He smirked. "Tell me, if it's not me that you fear, then what are you afraid of?"

I had no time to reply as Cash pulled me out of the criminal's reach, forcing me back against the opposite wall as he unlocked the cell door.

I still don't understand why I did what I did next. Before I fully realised what I was doing, I had pushed Cash out of the way and charged into the cell myself, much to the surprise of the officer and the doctor. I pinned the confused Crane to the wall, ignoring Cash's protests. In hindsight, I realise there should have been no way I could have held him there, if he had wanted to push me away. Perhaps he had been curious as to what I was doing- I didn't really understand it myself. This was the psychopath that had broken the seemingly unbreakable man I used to love.

"You," I hissed through my teeth, increasing the pressure my arm was putting on Crane's throat. "You're the one who did this to Tyler! You're the reason he's stuck in this place now! Well, I've got a message for you!"

"Miss. Raven? Nina?! Get away from him!" Cash yelled, grabbing me roughly by the shoulders and pulling me off the startled Crane. But not before I leaned closer and whispered my message in the brown-haired man's ear.

"Thank you."

I let Cash drag me out of the cell, calling for assistance as he did. I noted the look on Crane's face; forehead creased in confusion, surprise clear in his cold blue eyes. The next thing I knew, two more guards had entered the cell, seizing Crane harshly by the arms and pulling him along the corridor, ignoring his struggles.

The doctor met my gaze for a moment, and I smiled timidly, whispering under my breath.

"Thank you."

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**So, opinions anyone? Any feedback at all is greatly appreciated, especially relating to the POV change (oh, and I will point these out in similar fashion in future chapters, but if there's no name at the start of a chapter, assume it's our lovely Nina talking)**

**Once again big love to you all, dear readers- you flatter me with your attention! xx**


	3. Interview

**Hello again! Sorry this has been a long time coming, I've literally been bombarded with essays at school lately (damn you A-levels!) Ah well, I guess it'll be worth it in the long time, right?**

**If you're returning, thank you so much for sticking with this, honestly, every view/favourite/review/whatever brightens my day :)**

**Hope you enjoy it!**

**Blue xx**

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CHAPTER THREE- INTERVIEW

"Where are they taking him?" I queried, walking faster to avoid being left behind in the labyrinth of asylum corridors.

"Solitary confinement. Whenever Crane starts talking to people, we ship him off to isolation. He normally thinks he's above the likes of others, and when he starts showing in an interest in anyone, it usually means the Scarecrow personality's coming back. You know you really shouldn't have encouraged him," Cash explained, shaking his head. He paused for a minute, seeming to consider something, and then turned to me again. "What did you say to Crane, anyway? Y'know, before he was moved? It takes a lot to confuse him like that."

"I thanked him," I replied bluntly, not stopping to appreciate the look of horror that passed across Cash's face.

He spluttered a little but didn't press the topic, and we didn't exchange another word until we'd reached the front entrance of the asylum, where Geoff was waiting for me.

"You took a while, Miss. Nina," he said, smiling wryly. "We're not going to make it to the interview in time at this rate."

"Interview?" Cash asked.

"Yeah, some news talk-show or something," I explained vaguely. "I didn't really listen to the details. I just know they want to ask me some questions about the whole thing with Tyler. I realised that this is something I need to talk about, and I figured 'why not tell the world?'"

"In that case, Miss, we'd best be off," Geoff interrupted. I made my goodbyes to Cash, and made my way out to the car, climbing in the backseat.

It was a good thing I had Geoff as a driver; in my stressed state of mind, I doubt I would've been able to get myself safely to the television studio.

It was an impressive looking building, all black panels and glass, with a stylish modern interior, although I barely had a chance to appreciate the glamour of the place before I was being whisked off by a variety of makeup artists and producers, all babbling away at me.

"Now, Miss. Raven, we're just going to have the hostess ask you a few questions, and we want you to answer as honestly as possible - the viewers want to know the whole truth."

"We're just going to touch up your makeup a little so it works with the studio lights, although I must say it looks very nice as it is."

"Remember, honesty is the policy here. Everyone wants the inside scoop on what happened to Tyler Carlton, every detail you're comfortable to share."

I merely nodded at the comments and instructions thrown my way, hardly listening to the man speaking to me while I was having my makeup fixed. Before I knew it, I was being guided to a big, plush red sofa in a pleasant looking studio setup, and being introduced to Gracie Foreman, the hostess; a friendly, attractive woman dressed in a crisp tailored suit.

I felt surprisingly calm as the cameras were adjusted so they focused on Gracie and me, more concerned with how to say what I wanted to than with how many people were going to be watching. The studio audience filed in, chattering to one another, looking and pointing in my direction as they did so. I felt increasingly like an animal at a zoo, or a piece of artwork on display, as pair after pair of eyes focused on my thin frame and gossip spewed from the mouths of the masses. I began to wish the soft crimson cushions would envelope me, hide me from the world. But I knew my story had to be told. For my benefit, if for no one else's.

"And we're live in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1..." The voice trailed off as the familiar theme music played and I was struck by a wave of thunderous applause, leaving me shell-shocked.

"Hello everybody! Welcome, welcome, welcome!" Gracie announced, holding her arms wide and plastering her trademark smile across her face. "Thank you all so much for tuning in today - and boy, do I have an exclusive scoop for you today!" Her face turned suddenly serious. "Now, we've all heard the terrible news about the latest attack by infamous Gotham Rogue the Scarecrow, and here to share her experience with us is Miss. Nina Raven, whose boyfriend Tyler Carlton was the Scarecrow's latest victim. Let's hear it for Miss. Raven, isn't she brave?"

I cringed slightly at the patronising tone and second wave of applause. I wasn't brave. If I was, I would've left Tyler the moment he hit me. No, I was a coward – coming on a talk show did nothing to change that fact.

"Nina, hi," Gracie began, turning to face me.

"Hi," I replied nervously, absentmindedly pulling my sleeves down past my wrists as I felt all eyes centre on me.

"Now Nina, I understand recently has been a very tough time for you, so I want to thank you for agreeing to come and talk with us today."

"Well, people have a right to know what's going on," I began, finding a little confidence. "Beyond the glamorised tabloid coverage, that is."

"Of course, I completely understand you. Now, Tyler has been admitted to Arkham Asylum for his treatment, is that right?"

"Yes, in fact, I was there when he was transferred earlier today."

"But why has Tyler been put up at Arkham? I believe I'm correct in saying he's from a well-off family – surely they would want him in a far nicer place?"

"They didn't exactly have a choice," I replied, noting Gracie's raised eyebrows. "Tyler's parents and I don't exactly get along, so I see no harm in telling you this – it won't matter if they dislike me a little more – but Tyler was admitted to Arkham because specialists believe he may be dangerous as he is, either to himself or others."

The light scatter of laughter in response to the comment about Tyler's parents soon died as I finished speaking.

"Dangerous? How so? And what do you mean by 'as he is'?"

"Everyone knows about Cr- Scarecrow's fear toxin," I began, stumbling on Crane's pseudonym. Having met him myself, it seemed strange to pin an elaborate identity on him. "It pretty much caused so much stress to Tyler's brain that he suffered a complete mental breakdown. He's terrified of nearly everyone and thinks there are people coming after him. Then there's his past."

"His past?"

"He used to be involved in drugs and alcohol for a while. So, naturally, the doctors want him somewhere secure – apparently he's too unpredictable."

"I see. So, Nina, you're obviously aware of the Scarecrow – what are your thoughts on him right now?"

"He's horrific. Anyone who can find amusement in other people's fear and pain like that can't be anything but a monster. Although..." I trailed off uncertain.

"Although?" Gracie prompted, hungry for more juicy exclusive gossip.

"Well, it's strange really. You'd think he'd be really strong and intimidating – I mean, I used to think Tyler was unbreakable, invincible – but Scarecrow destroyed him. He's not Tyler anymore."

Gracie reached over and patted my knee gently, as a chorus of sympathetic whispers emerged from the audience.

"You must be so angry, so disgusted by him, for taking away the man you love. Understandable, of course-"

"Loved."

"What?"

"I said 'loved'," I corrected again. "I used to love Tyler, but not anymore. Not for a long while." Before Gracie had time to interject with another question, I worded what had been on my mind since that morning at the Asylum. "I know Scarecrow's a psychopath, and yes, what he does is unforgivable. But – call me crazy – in a way, I guess I'm grateful to him."

There was a moment of pure, shocked silence in the studio. I could feel the horrified looks boring into me, but I ignored them. When it became clear Gracie was too stunned for words, I continued.

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea here. I'm not some heartless bitch who's glad she's finally rid of an annoying ex she couldn't be bothered to dump."

"Then why-? What on earth could make you g- grateful to such a monster?" Gracie stammered, staring imploringly at me.

"Tyler was abusive." My reply was blunt. No sugar-coating, no dodging the subject. Then without fully realising what I was doing, I rose from the sofa and, facing into the cameras, pulled my jumper off over my head.

As one, the audience let out a horrified gasp, dotted here and there with swear words and exclamations of astonishment, as my cropped vest top revealed my wounds.

Only slivers of clear, pale skin showed through the multitude of bruises that ranged from livid purple to faded violet and blue hues, zigzagged with pink scars and fresher red cuts. The scarring was made all the worse by the way my skin was stretched taunt across my too-skinny frame; flat stomach, thin arms and visible ribcage.

I stood there for a moment, letting the audience and the cameras absorb the image of this underweight, battered wreck of a person. I forced myself not to flinch away from the appalled gazes of the audience, not to hide from the world what Tyler had done. This is what I needed everyone to know. I didn't want people talking about how a 'brave, innocent young man' had fallen victim to the Scarecrow, or how his girlfriend had been left 'heartbroken'. People needed to know the truth – I needed them to know the truth.

"Okay, this is too much," I heard a man whisper angrily. "Cut the cameras. Do it, cut the cameras, now!"

Within seconds Geoff had run into the studio, wrapped his long coat round my shoulders and led me away from the glare of the spotlights. I closed my eyes and let him lead me out of the building, shielding me from the pack of cameras and reporters that had amassed outside. It wasn't until we were safely in the car that Geoff even spoke to me.

"That was a brave thing you did there, Miss. A little foolish perhaps, but very brave too," he smiled. "I just hope those bloody reporters don't start hounding you now."

"I don't care so much if they do," I replied wearily. "I did what I went there to do. I let people see the truth."

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**So, whaddaya think? If you have anything to say, good bad or ugly (hopefully the former), then please do let me know, praise and pointers are both gratefully received!**

**Sorry if it seems like there's not been much Dr. Crane so far, but if you feel that way, Chapter Four should be an improvement :)**

**I wish I could upload these as a regular thing but I'm having to find time where I can at the minute.**

**Thanks so much for your support (and your patience!), many hugs to everyone as always!**

**See you soon xx**


	4. Perplexed

**Let me start by saying sorry... I know, I know, it's been almost a month, and I apologise from the very bottom of my heart. I've just been overwhelmed with A-level stuff and a load of messy other stuff that I won't bore you with the details of... Please forgive me?**

**Anyway, this chapter has possibly been my favourite so far to write, because Crane's POV is just so much fun to use!**

**Hope you enjoy it, and thanks for not abandoning me!**

**Blue xx**

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CHAPTER FOUR- PERPLEXED

- Crane -

"And stay in there!" the pathetic guard yelled, throwing me bodily into the cell before spitting on the floor in front of me. _Charming_. I'd imagined that the Arkham guards' disgusting behaviour would be something I'd become used to during my numerous days imprisoned there. But instead of ceasing to annoy me, their Neanderthal-like ways became increasingly irritating. Why, if I only had some of my toxin... They'd soon show far more respect.

I stood up slowly, levelling my knocked-askew glasses and brushing dust off my oversized blue-grey jumpsuit. Calmly examining my surroundings, I sighed. Solitary confinement was hardly a new experience for me, although I prided myself on having, up until then at least, avoided it for the duration of my three most recent residencies in the asylum. I scowled as I remembered solitary confinement came hand-in-hand with an hour-long interview with another incompetent doctor, who was most likely undeserving of the title, as they tried to extract the cause of your 'problems'.

Once again I found myself lamenting the loss of my position in Arkham's staff – although the general freedom to carry out my experiments was most welcome, I missed the recognition as the brilliant doctor I was. The brilliant doctor I still am, despite a reputation damaged by society's failure to understand the effectiveness of my methods.

_And the thrill of rooting out people's deepest fears, Jonathan_, a raw, croaking voice reminded me.

"Scarecrow," I said dryly, recognising my companion. "I was wondering when you'd speak up again, you've been rather quiet lately."

_Merely... observing things from the sidelines, Jon. You wouldn't begrudge me that, would you, being the psychology expert you are_, Scarecrow retorted sarcastically. _Back in solitary again though, I see. Tsk tsk, Jonathan, I thought we'd gotten past this._

"Don't patronise me, Scarecrow. You know full well this current... predicament is more your fault than mine. Experimenting on that Tyler Carlton boy was your idea, after all, was it not?"

_Well said, Jon_, Scarecrow laughed. _But you can't deny that the pathetic thug deserved it, can you?_

I was silent for a moment, thinking back to the incident in question.

I had been on my way out to test my new formula when I had stumbled across the boy in an alleyway, drunkenly clinging to a wall and vomiting into a dumpster. I sneered at him, thinking him yet another example of human stupidity, with barely the brains to realise the drink he poured down his throat every night was poisoning him slowly.

Although he was the first person I had come across that night, I attempted to walk by him, determined to find a more suitable and interesting test subject. However, the disgusting pig of a man had thrown himself bodily in front of me, slurring something about hailing him a cab. I flinched and pushed the revolting creature away, recoiling at the stench of stale alcohol on his breath. Unfortunately, when the drunkard pulled himself up off the ground, his drunken apathy for life had turned quite suddenly into a rage that filled his bloodshot eyes. The brute took an unsteady stance that had clearly meant to be threatening, and began snarling at me under his breath.

"You want to pick a fight, huh? Bring it, you puny little shit," he cursed, spitting on the ground in front of me. "You're no tougher than my pathetic bitch of a girlfriend."

Normally I would have attempted to leave the drunken thug to his mumblings and avoid any physical confrontation, but my blood boiled at his aggressive and revolting demeanour, and my hand flitted to one of the slim canisters of toxin in my pocket.

Before the boy even had a chance to lunge at me, I shot my hand out and released the gaseous toxin straight into his face. He fell clumsily to the floor; gasping, choking, clutching at his throat. And then he started yelling. Cries of pure terror escaped his mouth, echoing off the alley walls and shattering the stillness of the night air. I smiled for a moment, pulling Scarecrow's mask over my head, and approached the screaming drunkard.

He was crouched on the floor at this point, tearing at invisible monsters crawling across his flesh and crying out for help. He didn't see me moving gradually closer; in fact, he barely registered anything beyond his own horrified hallucinations until I leant closer and hissed in his ear.

"_What's the matter? Afraid?_" Scarecrow sneered, revelling in the brute's snivelling, fearful outbursts. At those words, the boy started with a yelp and scrambled away from me, his cries increasing in volume until he was screaming incoherently at the top of his lungs.

Then he fell silent. His unconscious form crumpled to the floor, and Scarecrow grinned behind the burlap sack of the mask, satisfied that the disgusting creature's mind was shattered beyond all repair.

I tore the mask off hurriedly at the sound of approaching footsteps, and fled the scene, adrenaline coursing through my veins, on the hunt for another test subject.

_See?_ Scarecrow grinned at my recollection. _Turns out you were doing the whole world a favour with that one. Well, one person's whole world, anyway._

Scarecrow's tone changed on his last words almost mockingly, and I frowned, remembering the girl from earlier. Nina Raven, girlfriend of my latest victim.

"I assume you are referring to Miss. Raven? An interesting character, I must confess. Perhaps I should consider her as a future test subject?" I murmured, speaking half to Scarecrow and half to myself.

_She'd certainly be intriguing to observe, Jon. 'Specially considering she isn't afraid of you_, Scarecrow smirked.

I scowled, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance, whilst Scarecrow cackled maliciously.

_Whatever's the matter, Jonny boy? Little lost for words are we?_

"Be quiet!" I snapped, infuriated by Scarecrow's mockery. Having destroyed the mind of her boyfriend, I'd expected Miss. Raven, of all people, to be afraid of me. But that turned out not to be the case. I had to confess myself perplexed by her.

The way she had burst into my cell had taken me by surprise, so much so that she managed to push me to the wall before I could hold her off. I'd half expected the alarming and apparently furious girl to attack me further, but instead she pushed a little harder on my throat, leaning in to whisper to me before Cash could pull her away.

Her unexpected message echoed back to me. 'Thank you'. What reason did she have to thank me, the so-named 'monster' who had mercilessly attacked her boyfriend with a fear toxin that had broken his very mind?

_Seems to me little Tyler Carlton wasn't quite the lovely guy the news is making him out to be, hmm? Don't you remember what he said in the alleyway? About his 'pathetic bitch of a girlfriend'?_

I grimaced, recognising the truth in Scarecrow's words. Tyler Carlton was a disgusting member of society, undeserving of the very life that graced his alcohol-fuelled body, which only increased my anger at my imprisonment. I had removed some of the scum from Gotham's streets, and how did my dear city see fit to repay me? By flinging me into a cell at Arkham Asylum.

And they call it 'justice'.

* * *

**So, opinions everyone? I liked the idea of having the Jonathan Crane and Scarecrow personalities chatting to one another, but I want to know if you think it works, and also what you think of the snarky Scarecrow voice :)**

**Hopefully I won't be so long uploading a new chapter next time, but I'm afraid I can guarantee nothing, for I fear my school has many a homework assignment to throw in my direction (curse you, school!)**

**Big virtual internet hugs to everyone who's read this to the end, I only wish I could deliver real hugs to you all! xx**


	5. Phonecall

**So hey there!**

**Yes, I know this has been silent for far, far too long, but with school and Christmas and one-thing-and-another, I've been seriously struggling for time to write lately! Please forgive me?**

**I promise I'll try my best to get Chapter Six up within the next couple of weeks, as that should be a bit easier and more interesting to write.**

**Thanks so much for sticking with this, it means the world.**

**Blue xx**

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE – PHONECALL

- Nina-

"God damn it! Why can't they leave me the hell alone?" I groaned as I peered out the window and saw that, yet again, an army of reporters and paparazzi had amassed at the gates to the house. I was fortunate that they couldn't get any further than that, as were the photographers themselves – my mother would personally murder anyone who knocked so much as a petal out of place in her beloved garden.

"Well, appearing on TV, telling your story to the world and then flashing the cameras wasn't exactly the best way to avoid media attention, was it?" grinned Cassandra.

My best friend was stretched out on my favourite chaise-longue, her dyed-plum hair fanned out across the cushions.

"Maybe not, but I never thought it'd be _this_ bad," I replied, exasperated. "And I didn't _flash_ anyone – I just let them see some of the scars."

"You should've flashed them, just for a laugh," Cassandra sniggered, and I rolled my eyes at her strange sense of humour.

"Mature, Cass. Real mature," I muttered. She merely scoffed and jumped to her feet, before waltzing over and wrapping me in a perfume-scented hug. I hugged her back, grateful for the gesture.

"It'll be alright Nina," she murmured, and I smiled.

For all her kooky personality traits and oddball humour, she was the best anyone could ask for in a friend, and had been since I'd met her in 5th grade. Although she enjoyed some of the benefits of her family's wealth, she had never let it go to her head.

Her mother was a renowned interior designer, her father a celebrated author, and they lived in an extremely impressive mansion, much larger than my own, a few miles out of Gotham. But she'd always said she preferred spending time at mine. Apparently, it was down to a mixture of the company and the paintings.

The paintings were the first thing anyone ever mentioned when they visited. Small framed watercolours, enormous acrylic-coated canvases, colourful murals painted straight onto the walls. Landscapes, portraits, still-life and fantasy, all through the house.

When I'd first told my company-owning father that I'd wanted to go to Gotham's new University of Creative Arts, he was horrified. A millionaire's daughter, with my brain, wanting to be a freelance artist? He'd almost choked on his lobster. My mother, on the other hand, had been supportive from the start. A classical pianist, she had encouraged every spark of creativity I'd ever had and turned them into a burning fire. My father didn't stand a chance at dissuading me.

So Gotham UCA is where I went. Cassandra had gone too, only she had wanted to follow in her father's footsteps and be an author. As well as being friends, over the years we'd also become each others' critics, much to the benefit of our work.

"I hope it is, Cass. I need to be able to actually _leave_ here for the art exhibition fundraiser next week!" I laughed, trying to brush off my annoyance at the paparazzi.

"Wait, that's next week? Crap, I still need to get a dress for that... and a plus one," Cassandra replied, looking at me as if asking permission.

"Cass, you _know_ I don't want to ask Jesse to go with me. He's all yours."

"Thank you!" Cassandra squealed, wrapping me in another tight hug. "Ooh, I really can't wait now! Which of your pieces are gonna be there again?"

I rolled my eyes, and began explaining for the hundredth time which art pieces were going to be showcased.

"Miss Raven! Miss Raven! Can we ask you- ?"

"Is it true that- ?"

"How do you feel about- ?"

"Tell us about- ?"

"Could you give us a few minutes to- ?"

The usual flood of questions greeted me as I stepped out the car, accompanied by innumerable flashes of white and several microphones being thrust in my face.

"My daughter will _not_ be speaking to you!" My father roared above the pandemonium, roughly shoving aside one reporter who had jumped the velvet rope. "Now goodbye!"

He ushered my mother and I through the front doors of the gallery, and we sighed happily as the din was replaced by calming music and the soft chatter of those attending.

"Guy! Sophia! You made it!" exclaimed a booming voice as our names were ticked of the guest list. "And Nina too, splendid! I was worried you'd never make it past those damn photographers at your house!"

We smiled collectively and greeted Andrew Vine, Cassandra's father. He shepherded us through to the main portion of the exhibition, babbling excitably about the guests and the artists and the artwork and wow-Nina-how-long-did-this-take-you-to-do and Cassandra-should-be-around-here-somewhere.

Eventually I managed to leave my parents talking to Andrew and wandered off, champagne in hand, to find Cassandra and Jesse. I spotted them with Cassandra's mother, Julia, gathered round one of my portraits.

"Nina, there you are! Jesse and I were looking for you when Mum dragged us over to look at 'Purple Horizons'," Cassandra explained, referencing the watercolour piece I'd done of her looking out of her bedroom window last summer.

"It's astonishing, Nina, really," Julia praised, beaming. "I just can't believe Cassandra never told me about it!"

We all laughed as Cassandra blushed, mumbling some excuse that we couldn't hear. The conversation quickly turned to the artwork at the event, in particular my contribution, until we were interrupted, albeit politely, by one of the gallery staff.

"Excuse me, Miss Raven? Sorry to intrude on you, madam, but there's a call for you at the main desk, apparently it's rather important. If you'd like to come with me?"

I followed the uniformed man, confused.

"Who's making the call?" I enquired.

"Um, we don't exactly know. He won't give us his name, but he says he knows you... If that's not the case then sorry for bothering you, but he does say it's urgent."

I frowned as I picked up the phone, holding it cautiously to my ear.

"Hello, Nina Raven speaking," I began formally.

"_Ah, Miss Raven! They did find you, good_."

I blanched at the cold, familiar voice, knuckles whitening as I gripped the phone. _Scarecrow_.

"What do you want, Crane?" I demanded, letting my anger override the fear in my voice. The man behind the desk looked up, concerned. He clearly recognised the name.

"_You see, Miss Raven, I've been trying to get in touch for a little while now, ever since your... appearance on the television. But it would seem that both Officer Cash and the good Warden have failed to pass along my messages as instructed. So I took the liberty of contacting you myself_."

"How did you get to a phone?"

"_That information is irrelevant, child. What is relevant, however, is what you said in your little interview. Of all the reactions I was prepared for you to have, gratitude was not amongst them_."

"I didn't mean- !"

"_You... interest me, Miss Raven. Confuse me, almost. You seem not to like conforming to anticipated responses. I was also surprised to find out you are in fact an artist. I must say, some of your pieces on display tonight are quite impressive_."

I froze, one single chilling thought racing across my mind. _He's here!_

"Crane? Where are you? How did you- ?" I was cut off by a considerable amount of scuffling noises and angry voices from the other end of the line.

"_There he is!_"

"_Who's he calling?_"

"_Get him out!_"

"_Let go of me!_"

"_Take him back to his cell, and I want 24 hour surveillance! Hello? Who is this?_"

It took a few moments to realise I was being addressed.

"This is Nina Raven, who is this? What's going on?"

"_Ah, Miss Raven, I might have guessed. This is Warden Sharp speaking. I'm afraid Mr Crane broke into my office to use my phone. Apparently ignoring his requests to contact you was, in hindsight, not a good idea_."

I visibly relaxed as I realised Crane was still at Arkham, nowhere near me and my family. But inside my anger was still boiling. I knew that unless I spoke to Crane directly, this would just keep on happening.

"Warden Sharp, tell Crane I'll come and speak to him."

"_Miss Raven, you can't be serious- !_"

"If I don't, he'll just keep breaking out to borrow phones, or even find me himself. I'll call the car and I should be there in about half an hour."

"_Wait, you're coming now? Straight from the event?_"

"The sooner this gets done, the sooner it's all over, sir. Goodbye." I hung the phone up, and turned to the man at the desk. "Could you please tell everyone I'm sorry, but something's come up and I have to leave? And could you call the car for me? Thank you."

I pulled my coat on and checked the clock anxiously. _Let's see what this is all about then._

* * *

**So... next chapter should definitely be more interesting! Sorry if this seems to be a little lacking in 'oomph', but we're getting into the chunkier stuff very soon, I swear!**

**Thanks again for sticking with this, cyber-hugs for all!**

**Okay, another codephrase to include in any reviews... 'TeamEdward(Rochester)', because Jane Eyre's brooding byronic hero is a cool guy, even if he does act questionably at times!**


	6. Ally?

**Hey there, long time no see!**

**Yeah, I know it's been an age, and I'm so sorry guys. There's just been so much going on in my life at the moment, good and bad, and I didn't want to upload anything that seemed half-hearted.**

**Thanks for your unwavering patience here guys, all the views/favourites/reviews etc make my day :)**

**I'm going to try and get another chapter of 'Hyde and Seek...' up soon if you read that too... But bear in mind my definition of 'soon' could be 'a couple weeks'. It ****_is_**** the school holidays though, so I have a little more time :)**

**Blue xx**

* * *

CHAPTER SIX – ALLY?

"Take me to Crane." My demand was blunt, harsh.

"Miss Raven, I... I really don't think that- " Warden Sharp stammered, falling silent under my glare. I'd been pushed to my limits by Arkham, its staff and its psycho inmates.

"Well I _do_ think, Warden, which is why I'm here. Unless this gets resolved soon, you're going to have a breakout on your hands. And somehow I feel that's not exactly what you're after, is it? I've left the exhibition early for this, and my temper is getting short. So shut up and take me to see the goddamn Scarecrow!"

A hurry of movement followed my outburst; security doors were unlocked, messages relayed, muffled replies received over the intercoms.

"Right, Miss Raven, we're taking you to one of the therapy rooms rather than Crane's cell, to avoid any trouble from the other inmates whilst you're, ah, talking things over. Of course, we'll still have to pass them to get there, but- "

"I don't mind, Warden. I've met them before, and they don't frighten me, at least not from behind bars."

The Warden stared at me with an expression caught halfway between concern and admiration. Without another word, he turned and walked in the direction of Intensive Treatment, leaving me to follow swiftly behind.

As we walked past guards and doctors, I became increasingly self-conscious, silently cursing myself for not changing into more suitable clothes. What had seemed stylish and perfect for the exhibition now stood out and drew unwanted attention in the corridors of the asylum.

My dress had been ordered for me especially, made by a fashion-designer friend of my mother's; a knee-length, one-shouldered creation of sapphire-blue taffeta, embellished with a sprinkling of Swarovski crystals, that flattered my skinny frame and gave the illusion of curves where there were none.

I tried to ignore the stares of the male staff, but I became increasingly uncomfortable with each poorly-hidden glance, and I couldn't help but overhear the appreciative murmurs punctuated by the tapping of my stiletto heels on the metal floor.

The feeling considerably worsened when we arrived in the maximum security wing. I could feel the stares of the super-villains dissecting me like a frog on a tray, their expressions halfway between surprised and, well, hungry.

"Well hello there again, sweetheart!" Joker drawled, leaning forwards against the bars. "I must say you're looking rather stunning tonight. All this effort for us?"

I smiled in spite of myself, and relaxed a little. The comment seemed so casual, so _normal_, that I could push from my mind that the Joker was a super-criminal. Somehow, despite the certified insanity, these inmates had seemed relatively sane both times I'd met them.

Warden Sharp, however, was in a far less humorous mood.

"Silence, Clown! Miss Raven's business here is her own." He slammed his hand against the door of Crane's cell. "Get up, Crane! You've got your chance to talk. Up!"

When he failed to start moving, the guards opened the cell and hoisted the brown-haired man to his feet. I stifled a gasp as I saw the cut lip and bruised eye; clearly the result of the scuffle I'd heard over the phone. Whatever the guards had done had left Crane barely able to hold his own weight, and I saw him wince as the officers' grip tightened on his arms. He looked up, his ice blue gaze settling on me, and he seemed to finally realise why he was being dragged from his cell.

"Ah, Miss Raven," he croaked. "How nice of you to visit, child. Now if these imbeciles would kindly _let go_, we can be on our way."

The guards scowled and released Crane, who promptly collapsed to the floor, cursing under his breath.

"Oh for Christ's sake, can't you get him a wheelchair or something? He can barely stand!" I exclaimed. I'd left the exhibition early and this was taking far longer than I'd expected. My patience was running extremely thin.

"Crane here is a criminal, Miss Raven, not a hospital patient," the Warden replied, smug.

"For the love of... fine!" I cried, exasperated, and leant down to help Crane off the floor myself. I shuddered as his cold hand grabbed my shoulder, but I held back the instinct to push him off. I pulled the criminal slowly to his feet, grimacing as his hold tightened. I snapped at the guards as they moved in to take him, awkwardly putting my arm around Crane's thin waist to support him.

All the Warden's spluttered protests were ignored as I followed the guards to the therapy room, the former doctor leaning on me heavily. In my mind I noted how Crane's breath was wheezing slightly in his throat, and the way his grip tightened whenever his weight was on his left foot. I felt a little sympathy for his injuries – his state reminded me too much of my past for that not to be the case – but nevertheless I could feel the bile rising in my throat.

I was immensely relieved when we finally reached the designated therapy room, and wasted no time in lowering the disgraced former doctor onto the patients' couch. I pulled the high-backed office chair from behind the desk, wheeling it round until I was sat at the foot of the couch, facing Crane. The Warden and his guards hovered awkwardly in the doorway, but I dismissed them with a wave of my hand.

"We, um... that is... if you need assistance we'll be right outside the door. There are non-audio security cameras in here, so if he tries anything, we can see..." Warden Sharp muttered, pointing a distrustful glare in Crane's direction.

"That will not be necessary, _Warden_," Crane sneered, as if the bumbling man's title was nothing more than a joke. "I only wish to speak with Miss Raven, and there's very little damage I could inflict in this state, courtesy of your hired dogs."

The guards bristled at the insult but left nonetheless, the Warden trailing nervously behind them. Once I was sure the door was closed, and there was no risk of being overheard, I turned to the psychopath on the couch. Crane was shuffling slightly, pulling himself up as much as he could, each movement clearly causing him pain.

"What do you want?" I demanded, impatient.

"You seem rather less polite this evening, compared to when we last met, child. I apologise for disturbing your exhibition, but these incompetent staff would not allow me to contact you at a more suitable hour."

I scowled at him; his superior tone and cold glare made my skin crawl.

"As for my wanting to speak with you... Like I said over the phone, I was rather intrigued by what you said both here at Arkham and on your interview. It goes without saying that you surprised everyone with your response to your... circumstances, myself included. I will admit that though I suspected abuse from what Mr Carlton said to me on the night of his – shall we say 'accident'? – I hadn't expected it to such an extravagant level. I imagine you would place little belief in me if I told you I am sorry for your suffering, but none the less... Physical domestic abuse is the ugliest and least forgivable kind of infliction. Toying with the mind is far more... elegant."

For a moment I was speechless. Crane's words swirled in my head, stirring up a variety of contrasting emotions. He was 'sorry' for what _I'd_ been through, when he was a torturer and no doubt a murderer himself? And what did he mean; psychological abuse was more 'elegant'? Was he blind to the effects of his toxin? I had to suppress the urge to back away from him, shrinking into my chair; if I demonstrated any sign of weakness or fear he would seize and exploit it. Instead I allowed my disgust to creep into my expression, dripping from my words.

"Such an '_extravagant'_ level?"

"Ah, yes. A poor choice of words, perhaps," Crane muttered, a flicker of what seemed to be a genuinely apologetic frown appearing on his face. "I merely meant that I had not realised the extent of the abuse. The amount of bruises you have, and the knife wounds."

I flinched at the word 'knife', remembering all too vividly the sensation of the cold steel breaking my skin.

"Yes, well, they're healing over. Gradually anyway. And there've not been any new ones in a while. Thanks to you, I suppose."

"There we are again, with that unexpected gratitude," Crane grinned, shark-like. "You're not the first person to ever feel grateful to a 'criminal' for removing a problem. But you, Miss Raven, are certainly the first I've come across to so openly admit it. Thus, my interest in you."

"I can understand why I'd surprised you, Crane, but I don't understand why you're so interested in me because of it. Or why, for that matter, you seem so insistent on contacting me, only to be irritatingly vague when I actually go out of my way to pay a visit." I responded, my words sharp, clipped. My patience, already wearing thin by the time I'd arrived, was all but gone.

"That's _Dr_ Crane, if you'd be so kind," Crane corrected calmly. That was _it_.

"Really?" I replied sarcastically, standing up. "Because I'd heard it was _former_ doctor."

I turned to storm out of the room, but Crane jumped to his feet as well, gripping my wrist in his cold fingers.

"Now listen here, Miss Raven," he hissed, suddenly infuriated. "The reason I've been so eager to speak with you is because I believe there is a potential for a partnership here."

"What? What kind of partnership?"

"Let's just say, I think you owe me a favour. You're clearly grateful I removed your abusive boyfriend from the picture, and now _you_ need to help _me_. The less time I spend in this place, the better, and quite frankly, child, I need you to put in a good word for me and get my stay reduced as much as possible. I think that's fair now, don't you?" He smiled again, fixing his ice-blue gaze on me hopefully. "Well?"

"I want to get one thing completely clear here, _Dr_ Crane," I sneered back, twisting my wrist free of his hold. "You are a monster. A disgusting, loathsome little psychopath that I want absolutely _nothing_ to do with, understand? I've just had one sadistic creep removed from my life; I don't need him to be replaced with another. Now leave me the hell alone!"

Before I had a chance to move away, Crane pinned me to the wall; one arm across my shoulders, the other pressed to my neck. I tried to squirm away, but in vain.

"Now I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, Miss Raven. But I'm afraid if that's how you want to play this-"

"Crane!" One of the guards that had been stationed at the door rushed in, seizing the brown-haired man and throwing him the floor. The second guard dragged him to his feet and secured his arms behind his back, whilst the first anxiously checked I was okay. I brushed him off, flustered and annoyed.

"It's fine, I'm not hurt. Just get me out of here, please. Now."

-Crane-

I struggled against the guard's grip, watching Miss Raven being escorted out. I had to admit, she hadn't failed to surprise me again. She was far more spirited than I had given her credit for.

But her anger towards me, the things she had called me? Well, she would pay for them, soon enough.

I suppressed a smile. The addition of a small amount of anaesthetic on the needle of the syringe my confederate had smuggled me earlier that day had done its work. Miss Raven hadn't felt a thing when I had broken the skin on her neck, injecting my new formula into her veins.

Now I just had to sit back, patient, and wait for the results. Soon she would come back to me, I knew it. And this time, she would be _far_ more willing to cooperate.

_I'll be seeing you again very soon, no doubt, Miss Raven, _I thought. _Sweet dreams, child._

* * *

**Oooh, bit of a cliffhanger?**

**So, what do you think? As always, I value every review I get - words are precious, and if you think my stuff is worth yours, then I'm flattered.**

**Also, mini-shout-out to the Guest reviewer who keeps putting 'More please :D' on virtually every chapter of this and 'Hyde and Seek...' - Thank you, each time it makes me smile :) And sorry for all the long waits!**

**And I haven't forgotten the code-phrase for this chapter's reviews... It's 'TakeMeOrLeaveMe'. If you know the song and it's origins, no doubt you'll agree it's very very good :D**


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